


Sliding Portals

by HappilyShanghaied



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Jemma, Bobbi is everybody's big sister, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Hunter is a cinnamon roll, HuntingBird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 05:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5035612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Fitz had been the one sucked up by the monolith?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fitzsimmons is destroying my life. If they're ruining yours too, welcome to the trash bin. It's fun down here.
> 
> Btw - this fic is beta-free, so please feel free to let me know if I've made a typo.

She'd only left the room for ten minutes, and by the time she'd gotten back, he was gone.

After everything it took to finally get them to the inevitable, Fitz stood her up (or so Jemma thought). Only after an hour of standing in the lab, wondering what could've happened to him, did thin strands of worry start to pull at her mind.

He'd just asked her on a date. Did he freak out? Did he read her shock at the invitation as a lack of enthusiasm?

She knew he wouldn't do that. Not after all they'd been through together, the things they'd sacrificed for each other. This was meant to be a fresh start.

Only later that night, when their proposed dinner date had long since passed and he still hadn't returned, did she check the video surveillance for clues as to what had happened.

"Holy fucking shit." Skye gasped, fingers softly vibrating against Jemma's arm. "That's not po--what the hell did I just watch?"

Mack abruptly walked off, rubbing a hand over his head as he let loose a low stream of curse words under his breath.

Simmons stared blankly at the screen - numb - watching helplessly as the footage of Leo being sucked up by the monolith replayed on a loop.

"I could try to break it open," Mack suggested, coming to rest at her side again. "If you think that would work..."

Formerly paralyzed by shock, Jemma sprang into action. "No! No. Don't go near it. You could end up hurting him by mistake. And we can't risk losing anybody else until we know what that thing really is. What it does." 

_What it did to Leo_.

Through her peripheral vision, she could feel Skye watching her cautiously, as if any moment she would explode and shatter like one of her fragile chemistry beakers.

Skye frowned as the video loop restarted again. "But how are we going to know what it really is until somebody goes near it? We can't just leave him in there!"

The grief and fear she'd been holding back erupted violently. "Do you honestly think I would do that?! That I would just - just leave him in there to die?"

 _You left him once before and it nearly killed him_ , her brain whispered, taunting her.

Logically, Jemma knew it wasn't true. She'd left for his sake, and her desperate swimming was the only reason Fitz had even lived.

She _had_ left him, even if she'd only done it to give him space to heal. Yet, despite knowing all of this, she still couldn't help but feel the psychic echo of the weight she'd lugged around with her for nearly a year, and the sick guilt she'd felt every time he'd stuttered over his words.

She'd may have left him, but she did come back. She would always come back.

"Of course not." Skye reached out to touch Jemma's arm again, leaving a buzzing feeling on her skin where Skye's fingers made contact. "I didn't mean it like that."

Jemma hugged the clipboard she'd been holding to her chest and nodded. "Right. Well, I'm the only scientist here, so I should be the one to examine it. Perhaps the situation isn't as dire as we think?" The optimistic words range false even as they fell from her lips. 

Who was she kidding? Simply looking at the monolith made her blood run cold. 

"Sure. Maybe it's friendly?" Skye gave her the side-eye. "Jemma, are you crazy? That thing just ate Fitz and you want to go over there and try to make nice with it?"

"I'll go." Mack lifted the axe he'd be brandishing for the last ten minutes. "But I don't have any intention of being nice."

Jemma shook her head. "It should be me. You won't even know what to test for."

"Who said anything about testing it?" Mac shot her a loaded look.

"Woah," Skye interjected, physically pushing herself between them. "If anybody is getting near that thing, shouldn't it be the one of us who has freaking superpowers? I'm a walking 084. Maybe it'll be afraid of me and just cough him back up like a hairball?"

Mack's large frame curled in on itself. "Assuming he's still in there and not--"

"He's alive." Jemma's eyes flashed with determination. 

He had to be alive. The alternative was unthinkable. 

Surely the universe wouldn't be so cruel as to finally bring them together only to tear them apart again? They'd never even gotten the chance to figure out exactly what they were to each other.

"Of course he's alive, Jemma." Skye's eyes narrowed at Mack, cutting off his response. "He's probably just frozen in there, like Han Solo in that carbonite prison Jabba the Hut put him in. If Han Solo can make it out alive, Fitz can, too."

"You can't--" Jemma stopped herself from correcting the flawed science of Star Wars and refocused her thoughts. "He's alive. I would feel it if he weren't. And if I can just get close enough to it, I know I can prove it."

"Nobody is going anywhere near it." Coulson walked briskly into the surveillance room, what remained of his left arm nestled carefully into a fabric sling. "Not until we have a better idea of what we're dealing with."

Desperation clawed at the inside of Jemma's chest. "But sir--"

"That's an order." He stared at the screen, mouth set into a grim line. 

It unnerved her. Jemma had only seen him with that expression five times since she'd known him. 

The first was through the quarantine doors, when Coulson had realized she'd contracted the Chitauri virus. Next, when he'd held Skye in his arms as she rapidly bled out from the two slugs Ian Quinn pumped into her stomach. And then the pod incident, when Coulson caught his first glimpse of Fitz hooked up to the life-support machines. 

Then there was last time. Tripp. The memory of it still too fresh to prod.

Having barely made it through the grief of losing one member of their team to an alien artifact, Jemma wasn't sure any of them could suffer another wound like that.

Especially her.

She heard her tears striking the metal of her clipboard before she'd felt the moisture on her face. "He must be so frightened."

"We're all frightened, Simmons." Coulson's eyes softened as he glanced around the room, his gaze eventually returning to her. "This hasn't been the best week for us, I'll admit. But, we're S.H.I.E.L.D., and if anybody has the experience and resources to figure this out, it's us. If Fitz is still in there, I promise you we will get him out."

Coulson's words were cold comfort against the scope of their challenge, but Jemma made the choice to believe them. She was sure they were the only thing keeping her from falling apart at that moment.

"Nobody deserves a miracle more than we do." Mack said, letting the axe fall to his side again, in defeat.

Jemma laughed bitterly to herself, thinking of the myriad of sarcastic responses Fitz would have had at hand. 

"I don't believe in miracles, but I do believe in science" she said, steeling herself against the task ahead. "And if there's one thing I know how to do, it's that."


	2. Chapter 2

4,648 hours.

That's how long it had been since Jemma had seen her best friend's face. It hurt her to remember what it had been like for them in the lab, working in tandem, a well-oiled machine. Certainly by now, they would have solved this riddle. Together.

Bobbi was doing her best to fill the void, but it wasn't the same. With her new partner also having a background in microbiology, a lot of their skill set was redundant. And even in the fields where they didn't overlap, Jemma was a quick study, fast outpacing Bobbi's progress in a matter of days.

It was nice to have the company, though. The lab was a lonely place without Fitz there, and Bobbi's optimism was a welcome change from the rest of the lot, who - when they could even bring themselves to make eye contact with Jemma - simply sent her pitying looks.

"Coulson asked me again for the projected diaspora of the terrigen crystals." Bobbi pulled a pair of goggles from her face and paid them on the table between them. "I turned in the environmental impact report, but I think Coulson would rather have somebody with a chemistry background take care of this end."

Jemma hummed an acknowledgement, though Bobbi's words barely registered as she was too engrossed scanning a DOD museum theft report from Mosul to give them her full attention.

"Did you hear me, Jemma?"

Jemma looked up, embarrassment flushing her face as she winced at her own lack of manners. "I'm so sorry, Bobbi. My mind may have been elsewhere."

That Bobbi looked at her with more concern than irritation only made her feel worse.

"Honey, your mind has been elsewhere since the day Fitz--"

"I know, and I apologize. Despite how it may look, I'm fully aware of the burden I've been placing on you lately."

"It's not that." Bobbi tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and sighed. "I don't mind covering for you. It's just, I'll be going back into the field soon - hopefully - and then I won't be here to pick up the slack. Coulson's going to notice eventually."

The gratitude Jemma felt at that moment could not be matched. It seemed like ever since she'd met the Mockingbird, the woman had made it her mission to save Jemma's ass.

Jemma smoothed a hand down the front of her wrinkled lab coat. "I know. And I'll get back to work soon, I promise. It's just, there's one more lead I need to check out. It's the last one - I promise. I just have a good feeling about this one."

"There's always 'one more lead' and they never seem to lead anywhere..."

"This one will," Jemma said, resolute. "It has to."

Bobbi placed a warm hand on top of Jemma's. "I get it. I do. If it had been Hunter who was sucked up into the monolith-- you'd better believe I'd be exactly in the same place you are right now."

"I wasn't married to Fitz." A blush crept its way up her neck at the thought.

"Sure you were." Bobbi's lips tugged into a lopsided smile. "I mean, not technically. You may not have been sleeping with the guy, but he is basically your life partner."

"I suppose you're right." Jemma worked hard to stave off the tears that threatened to brim in her eyes. "I've probably spent more hours beside Fitz than everybody else in my entire life combined."

"If Hunter and I had to spend that much time working together, S.H.I.E.L.D. would definitely be down a specialist. Maybe even two."

Jemma laughed, but the smile never reached her eyes. "You're both lucky, you know."

"Yeah. I know." Bobbi nodded solemnly, then let her fingers trail the spine of the report. "Be careful with that, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

"Of course." Jemma did her best to look level-headed, but there was no hiding the unhinged obsession that had been consuming her from the inside out.

Bobbi pulled a protein bar from her lab coat and tossed it onto the table on her way out. "And eat something. You're no good to anybody if you don't eat."

* * *

 

The cool breeze that blew through the dusty, stucco walls of the terrorists' ramshackle pied-à-terre did nothing to stave off the flop sweat that had been beading across Jemma's top lip for the last 30 minutes.

"These are... splinter bombs." She coughed loudly, clearing the tightness from her throat. "The very same used in the U.N. Attack and used to kill Sunil Bakshi.

"That name should mean something to you," Hunter interjected, earning himself a cuff to the back of the head.

The boss man's eyebrows lifted to his hairline. "Bakshi?"

They had discussed the wisdom of revealing that information to a terrorist group, but figured that name-dropping trumped anonymity, in this case.

After a brief spark of interest, an impassive mask dropped like a curtain in front of the older man's face. "One of these killed him?"

Jemma wasn't sure if he believed her. She doubted that he'd come across a lot of female weapons dealers in his sector of the globe. It was one reason she brought Hunter with her.

"Yeah, separated his atoms, leaving no remains." She smiled, doing to her best to appear relaxed. Hunter had given her a pep talk in the car ride over.

 _'Confidence sells, love,'_ he had said, winking at her in a way that was both serious and ridiculous at the same time. _'In any event, you should fake it until you make it. Just might be the one thing that keeps you alive'._

She wasn't confident, but she had to try.

The boss tilted his head, looking at her as if he knew all her secrets. "This man you went to all of this trouble for...you love him?"

Jemma could feel the weight of Hunter's stare on the back of her neck. She'd never spoken the words out loud - even to herself - but what did it matter now? It's not as if her behavior over the last few months hadn't already made her feelings on the matter abundantly clear.

"Yeah." She swallowed down the lump that had risen in her throat. "Yes, I do."

"Only love could make a woman so stupid." The boss man's laugh was sandpaper rough. "No remains you said, huh? Should be easy to clean up, then."

As soon as the flash bomb detonated, Hunter leapt into action, effortlessly taking out the guards behind them with two well-placed hits.

She raced across the room to the table - quickly scooping the artifact into her arms - before sprinting out of the enemy stronghold, with Hunter fast on her tail.

* * *

 

"You're a fucking nutter. You know that, yeah?" Hunter skidded across the hood of the car and wrenched the driver's side door open.

Jemma slid through the open window on the passenger's side, barely making it into the seat before the car lurched forward. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Barely." He grinned maniacally as his foot pressed the gas pedal as far down as it would go.

Jemma instinctively reached for her seatbelt.

He laughed as he jerked the car into a hairpin turn. "Oh, _now_ you're worried about safety? That's rich."

She ducked for cover as a bullet whizzed past her head. "Faster please!"

"Anything for a woman in love," he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Jemma rolled her eyes as they skidded across the gravel at a worrying pace. "You're one to talk."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta - pardon any illiteracy.

"Had to be done." Jemma smashed the pottery against the top of Fitz's drafting table, releasing all of her frustrations into one swift motion. "It's my last shot."

Coulson looked skeptical. "What's supposed to be in there?"

"The answer," she said, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she sifted through the rubble.

"You've thought you've had the answers before." Coulson touched her arm, which she instinctively shook off. "I think you've considered every possible answer except the obvious one. You thought Fitz was trapped inside the monolith, but every instrument scan showed the stone was solid all the way through. After reading Julian Huxley, you even thought he'd been co-opted as part of an alien group of transhuman organisms. But no evidence supported that."

"Yes. And now I think I know it's a black hole." She said, unable to control the testiness from creeping into her tone. "It's dark matter made solid. It can warp space-time, and this is gonna tell us exactly what that monolith is."

Jemma stood over the crumbled remains of the artifact, parchment in hand, shaking her head in disbelief.

"So..." Coulson took a small step closer. "Should we scan it? See if the computer can decipher what the--"

"It's Hebrew." Tears began to well in her eyes. All of the searching she'd done, all of the risks she'd taken, had come down to this. "It's just one word."

Her face crumbled upon reading it.

"What does it mean?" Coulson's voice grew soft, clearly sensing her disappointment.

She pressed the parchment into his hands. "Death."

"Simmons, I'm gonna make the trip to Glasgow." He said, gently.

"No!" She yanked the parchment back, squeezing the edge of it so hard her fingers turned white. "No, we can't. Fitz is all his mum has."

"Fitz's mother deserves to know that he's M.I.A."

"No." She shook her head, not wanting to admit defeat. Telling Fitz's mother would make this real. If his mother knew - if she were mourning him - Jemma wouldn't be able to suspend the delusion that he was still alive. "I know he's still out there."

"They need to be able to move on. And so do we. You have shown so much heart, never giving up on Fitz, and I will always, always respect you for it. But look around. We need you. We need that big brain of yours and that heart here. Okay? I miss him, too. I'm having a hard time accepting it all of it. I-I'm on my third hand, but nothing feels normal because nothing will feel normal. May took off on vacation and never came back, so I lost my right hand, too. We have got to accept it, to say goodbye. We need to say goodbye. Fitz would want us to do that. Okay?"

"Okay," she whispered, knowing full well she was lying to his face.

Coulson was probably right. Fitz would want her to move on, but she knew deep down that if he were in her shoes, he never would. He would never give up on her. And how could she not do the same?

Jemma knew what it was like to be without Fitz - when he was in a coma, when she was undercover at Hydra and now. Her life just didn't work without him in it, like a machine that was missing a vital part to run. Or a plant that couldn't photosynthesize, withering and dying due to lack of sunlight.

She needed him back. And as long as there was no empirical evidence that said she couldn't bring him home - no body to bury - she would keep trying.

* * *

 

Jemma looked furtively around her before lifting a pair of industrial garden shears to cut the hazard tape around the monolith. They'd all kill her if they knew she was in there, if they knew what she was about to do.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The yellow vinyl fluttered to the ground around her ankles and she took a fortifying breath.

All of those months ago, Daisy had been right. There would be no way to know for sure what this thing was unless one of them examined it up close. How was she meant to get Fitz home when she couldn't even get close enough to see how he'd been transported in the first place?

Jemma heart beat loudly against her chest.

If the monolith swallowed her too, she could end up dead or trapped in another dimension. It was probably the stupidest thing she'd ever considered doing, but she was out of options.

If it transported her, she would hopefully see Fitz again, and together they would figure out a way to make it back home from the other side.

If it killed her, well...she would finally be free of the torture she'd endured over the last six months. Both options sounded better to her than the eternal nightmare she'd been living.

She stared at the monolith for a long time, practically daring it to do something. It was just a lump of igneous rock. How could something that looked so innocuous be so deadly?

Jemma was about to find out.

She took one last, deep breath and placed her hand on the rough surface of the monolith. Her eyes grew large when it warmed instantly to her hand. When nothing further happened, she gave the thing a little nudge.

"Do something," she said, voice wavering. "Just do something."

Nothing.

Pressing her cheek against the rock, she attempted to listen for sounds of life. The surface scratched her skin as she pushed in further. She rued her lack of foresight, forgetting to bring her stethoscope with her.

Silence.

Tears brimmed in her eyes as her arms came up to circle the monolith in a desperate hug. "Please do something. Please. Please."

_If you're in there, Leo, give me a sign._

After an indeterminate amount of time embracing the monolith, she finally broke down, screaming, thrashing against it with open hands. "Do something! Do something!"

By the time she'd collapsed into a heap on the floor, her fingers were as raw as her voice. It was only when she'd felt Mack's strong arms lift her from the ground that she'd realized she had failed Fitz. Yet again.

And then she found the grain of sand.

* * *

 

Standing in a secret illuminati cave built under the remains of a gothic English castle, Jemma causally wondered for the twentieth time that day what the hell had become of her life.

When she'd asked to be put in contact with an expert in astrophysics, she assumed she would have had the opportunity to speak to somebody respected in the field, like Dr. Jane Foster or Dr. Selvig.

Never in her dreams had she counted on being subjected to the inane rambling of a tiny Asgardian with a penchant for expensive wine and cheap women.

But he had gotten them this far, and for that, she would suffer him gladly.

The man in question gestured to the deep carving etched high above an arch on the wall of the cave. "So I was here admiring the stone work, and --"

"The same as the scroll." Coulson gave Jemma a meaningful look. "Death."

"Maveth," Jemma said, unable to keep herself from correcting him.

The professor tilted his head in thought. "Yeah, one of its translations is actually 'death by punishment'."

"Could mean 'no trespassing'," Coulson suggested.

"A Hebrew warning carved in an English castle struck me as odd. Out of place." Randolph pulled a sardonic face and shrugged.

Bobbi squinted her eyes at the carving. "Seems ancient."

"But you stopped looking into it?" Coulson folded his arms, looking just as impatient outwardly as a Jemma felt on the inside.

The professor laughed. "A man dressed as an owl - of all things - I got him drunk enough to admit that no travel to other worlds was even occurring. Just ritualistic killings. Eh, the whole thing stunk of half-baked satanism. Just some fabrications to entice new members. And, well, there were fire dancers. I got distracted."

Bobbi turned to Jemma and rolled her eyes.

"Here's another one," Randolph said, pointing to a small plaque.

Coulson scanned the walls of the cave once more. "This is why I got rid of all the S.H.I.E.L.D. logos on our vehicles. It's like screaming for attention."

"You know, there's a ginormous eagle symbol on top of our jet," Bobbi said, a smirk forming on her lips.

"Yeah," Coulson said, echoing her smile as he activated the secret door. "Sometimes I can't help myself with the cool."

Randolph peered down the pathway and frowned. "You certain about this? It does say 'death by punishment'."

The door hadn't even fully finished opening before Jemma breezed right through it.

* * *

 

The sand was whipping around so much - illuminated only by the reflected glow of the blue planet's two moons - that Jemma could barely see five feet in front of her face.

She'd studied storms in space, of course. Marveled at the footage of dust storms moving across Mars' Utopia Planitia. The gravity-wave clouds along the north polar cap edge during the planet's late northern winter often caused changes in atmospheric pressure and temperature.

She often wondered what it might be like to experience one of them up close, though never in a million years did she think it would feel anything like this.

"Fitz!" She shouted into the wind, voice growing hoarse from overuse. "Fitz! Can you hear me?!"

It felt like a futile effort. And try as she might, she was unable to keep herself from getting her hopes up. It was amazing she had gotten this far.

Even if the flare had reached the other side, there was no certainty that he would have seen it. But if Fitz were still alive, she knew him well enough to know he wouldn't have strayed far from the portal. Not when it could have reopened at any time, possibly giving him a way home.

"Fitz!" She screamed, stumbling forward a few more feet.

If he was still out there, she would find him. Or die trying.

Alien sand scraped at her lungs as she pulled in shallow breaths of air. "Fitz!"

Just as her heart began to sink, she saw the shadow of a figure emerge from just behind a nearby rock.

"Jemma!"

She would have known that voice anywhere, even in space. Warmth flooded her insides at the revelation that he was still alive, standing in front of her. "Fitz!"

They both reached toward each other, clawing wildly along the the barren wasteland, slowly closing the distance between them.

"Jemma!" His eyes were haunting but crinkling with relief at the sight of her.

Their fingers touched, and that was the unfortunate moment a sharp tug pulled her back again toward the still-swirling portal.

"No!" Jemma dug her heels into the ground, sand slipping through her fingers as she unsuccessfully grappled for purchase. "Leo!"

Fitz's face was a model of determination as he scaled the land, fingers and arms flexing with the power of coiled rage.

As their fingers touched again, her face split into a wide smile. "I've got you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonight's episode was such a tease! How could they just end it there?
> 
> Hope you're still enjoying this - if you get a chance, please let me know what you think of it :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no beta - so please forgive the mistakes.

Jemma had traveled to another solar system, possibly even another dimension. The scientist in her should have been vibrating with excitement, busy marveling at everything new and strange that she'd seen on the blue planet. And she would have, had she not been so bone-tired from the stress of it all.

Regardless of the amazing sights she'd missed out on, seeing her best friend - whole and alive - still would have trumped them all.

However, after six long months living on who-knows-where, Jemma wondered how whole Fitz really was. It was inevitable for him to have lost something of himself, living on that god-forsaken planet. There had been an emptiness behind his eyes, a hollowed out space that used to thrum with life. What else had his ordeal taken away from him?

Jemma would be patient, try not to show disappointment, having made that mistake once before. She wouldn't pressure him with her expectations this time or volunteer her help when it wasn't asked for. Her past, ill-conceived attempts to make him well again had backfired miserably, pushing a wedge between them that they still hadn't completely been able to bridge.

She would take Fitz as he was this time, and prove to him how happy she was to do it. Even if he wasn't the same, she would cherish dearly whatever part of him had returned.

A brushing sound against the outside of her bedroom door caught her attention, pulling her from her thoughts. Sleep hadn't come easily to her that night, as the day's events had left her simultaneously jittery and exhausted.

As she opened the door, she was met with the sight of Fitz, sitting at the threshold, leaning against the door jam with a mug of tea in his hands.

Fitz's eyes widened at her sudden presence. "Sorry - I just --"

"Shh." Jemma sank down onto the ground next to him, brushing her shoulder against his. "It's okay. I couldn't sleep."

He stared vacantly into his mug, carefully avoiding her eyes. "I must look like an immense creeper."

He was folded in on himself, one arm hugging the mug to his waist like he'd been shot, his right hand fisted around something long and sharp.

"No. You look like somebody who just returned from a hellscape."

He let out a faint laugh. "That, I did, Jemma."

"What are you doing on the floor?"

He shrugged and took a sip of tea. "Couldn't sleep, either."

"You need to try and rest, though. To heal." She pulled the mug from his hands. "This certainly won't help."

"It's herbal."

"Oh." She leaned over the mug and inhaled the cloying scent of chamomile and honey. "Well, your circadian rhythm has most likely been affected by the lack of sun, and your cortisol--."

"--levels have been heightened by the amount of stress I was under." He shot her a fond look. "Yeah, I know all of that, but mainly I'm just - I'm just not used to sleeping in a bed. Or for more than an hour at a time. Never knew what could be lurking around the corner."

She took a sip of his tea to keep herself from crying. It had been a Herculean effort for her to keep thoughts of Fitz living in constant danger at bay. He wasn't cut out to be a survivalist - neither of them was - but at least she would have had her background in xenobiology to cling to. For him, it must've been a living nightmare.

Her gaze dropped once again to the makeshift weapon in his hand. "Is that a shiv?"

"What?" He looked surprised, as if he'd forgotten he was still holding it, then quickly tucked it into the pocket of his tartan, flannel robe. "No. It's nothing."

"Fitz--"

He scrunched his features and leaned away from her. "Honestly, Jem, it's just - just a thing. It's nothing."

Jemma hugged the mug to her chest and swallowed down the emotion practically choking her. He obviously wasn't ready to talk about it, and she wouldn't add more anxiety to his life by pressing him. "You need to get some sleep."

"I told you, I--"

"--can't sleep in a bed. I know. But what about the floor?" She angled her head toward her bedroom. 

* * *

 

After dragging all of her pillows and blankets onto the floor, she looked up at Fitz, who was still standing awkwardly against the wall of her bedroom, as hesitant as a virgin on his wedding night. "Come on. It'll be fun. Like making pillow forts when we were kids."

He stared at her wordlessly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You do know how to make pillow forts, don't you?" She raised her eyebrows at him.

Fitz groaned in that put-upon way he always did when she'd spoken condescendingly to him in the lab. "Obviously. I have a Ph.D. In mechanical engineering. Clearly, my pillow-fort-making abilities are vastly superior to the average person's. However, what you have there is just a heap of pillows, not a proper pillow fort."

She noticed him relax at their easy exchange.

He lowered himself into the nest of blankets, far enough away from her not to be touching. "This is silly. I won't have you losing sleep on the floor, just because I'm--"

"I'm losing more sleep with you in the other room," she said, quickly. "I keep waking and then part of me isn't quite sure if yesterday was a dream or if it truly happened. The anxiety of not knowing whether you're actually here or if I just wanted it so badly I conjured it in my mind...well, I'd just feel better seeing the proof of it for myself lying beside me."

"I - I had the same problem, once." A faint smile appeared on his face as he sank down into the pillows. "Did a lot of questioning my own sanity. Pretty sure I wasn't the only one."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was referring to, but apparently two geniuses together still couldn't manage to have a straightforward conversation about it.

Jemma launched herself at Fitz, wrapping him up in a smothering hug. She needed to feel that he was solid, that this was real. "I'm so sorry. You have to know how sorry I still am about that."

His body was a rigid line under hers, taut and unyielding against the hard floor. "No - don't - none of that matters. You don't have anything to apologize for, Jemma. You found me."

Fitz didn't understand what she was apologizing for. She was able to physically reach him through time and space, but reaching him in any other way seemed almost impossible. For two people who used to complete each other's sentences, so much was still left unsaid between them.

"It was hard leaving you when I was on assignment at HYDRA, but at least I knew you were alive. The last six months..." Tears pricked at her eyes, and she was too drained and weak to hold them back any longer.

His arms eventually lifted to circle around her back, tightly binding her to his frame. "You literally crossed the universe to find me. I'll never doubt our friendship again."

When she finally pulled away from him, she noticed the tears in his eyes. They both wiped the dampness from their faces in tandem.

"Well, aren't we a couple of tenderhearts?"

"You started it." He sat up a little, arranged his pillows on a slight incline, and made himself comfortable.

Jemma rolled over into the spot next to him and reached for his hand. "Please? It would help me sleep, I think."

He stared at her open hand for a beat before covering it with his own and interlacing their fingers. "Anything for you," he said, stifling a yawn.

She kept vigil in the dark until Fitz's breath evened and his hand grew lax in hers. Once he was truly out, she closed her eyes and allowed the warm embrace of sleep to finally claim her.

* * *

 

Bobbi was busy working in the lab when Jemma and Fitz arrived. From the state of disarray through out the room, she'd been there half the morning.

Jemma mentally kicked herself for neglecting her duties so spectacularly over the last few months. She owed Bobbi at least a week's worth of dinners to make up for everything.

Fitz stopped short, squinting at the fluorescent lighting above.

"Are you okay?" Jemma worried her bottom lip. "We can leave if it's too much."

Though a bit green around the gills, he shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes," Bobbi grinned, eying Jemma's and Fitz's joined hands in the least subtle way possible.

"Yes. I thought seeing some familiar surroundings might help Fitz re-acclimate to Earth." Jemma smiled at Fitz, whose attention seemed to be drawn elsewhere.

"Well, it should definitely be familiar, because nothing has been moved." Bobbi pointed at Jemma. "That one nearly took off one of the bio-tech's heads when they tried to steal a post-it from your desk."

Fitz sent Jemma a curious look.

"You hate it when anybody touches your stuff." Jemma shrugged, hoping he wouldn't make a big deal of it. She could already feel the heat of embarrassment flaring in her cheeks.

"You're right," Fitz said, still studying her with intent. "I do."

They strolled through the lab, Bobbi pointing out various upgrades and new tech acquisitions as she lead the tour.

"Not sure this is - that I'm --" Fitz stood in front of a pile of shimmering, black rubble, slack-jawed.

Bobbi tucked a pen into her lab coat and nodded. "It's the monolith - or what's left of it, anyhow."

Jemma gave Fitz's hand a small squeeze for comfort. "It's completely destroyed, Fitz. It can't hurt you anymore. You're perfectly safe here."

He had yet to tear his eyes away from the still ominous-looking rocks. "Matter can't be destroyed, Jemma. First law of thermodynamics. You've said it yourself."

Her stomach dropped at the memory of their time in the med pod, another time he had been so close to death. "It can be converted though, Fitz, and this particular matter has and is now inert."

"You don't know that for sure." He dropped her hand in favor of resting his fists on his hips.

It was such a habitual stance that she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until then.

"It's alien." He said, frowning at the glass case. "Anything is possible."

"Bobbi and I could test it for you, if it would make you feel more secure?" Jemma suggested, searching Bobbi's face for confirmation.

Fitz released a humorless laugh. "I'm fully capable of testing that theory on my own. I haven't ceased being a scientist--"

"-- that's not what I--"

"-- I'd like to go back now," he said, abruptly, before shooting her a contrite look. "If that's okay?"

The tension in the air silently repelled Bobbi to the other side of the lab.

Jemma plastered a smile in place. "Of course it is. Perhaps, I should have given you some more time to recuperate before bringing you here? I shouldn't have pushed you. I just thought it might help you feel more normal, being surrounded by the things you love."

"No. I--it does. I'm glad you showed me, even if I am being a right prat about it." He scrubbed a hand over his face. 

"You're not."

"I am." With a shuttering breath, he reached again for her hand. "It's quite loud in there."

"Of course it is." She took his hand, glad that the tentative peace between them still held. "You're body is probably just overstimulated. It's perfectly understandable."

She picked up her pace, tugging him behind her out of the lab.

"Thanks. You know, for being patient with me." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "I know it can't be easy for you, either."

Jemma stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. "Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Worry about me." She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day collapsing on top of her all at once. "I'm not the one who's been through a life-changing ordeal."

"That doesn't invalidate what you're feeling." His gaze drifted to the now-closed door of the lab. "What you've accomplished in there is -- is amazing. You've probably come up with a whole new, better system of working without me here."

She lifted her head up. "Yes. But I prefer the old system, if I'm being honest. It just worked better for me."

"Of course it's better." A smug smile appeared on his lips. "I designed it, thus, it's perfect."

"Don't know about 'perfect'," she said, snaking her arm around his waist, "but perfect for me, I suppose."

It had to have been strange for him, having everyone's life continue without him there. She wondered how long he thought he'd been gone before she broke the news to him. Days on the blue planet couldn't have been measured the same way.

"Do you want--" "I thought we might get--" They spoke at the same time.

Fitz gestured to her. "Ladies first."

"I thought you might like to have dinner with me." She wasn't sure what she was so nervous about. It wasn't exactly like she was asking him out on a date. Not really.

But, the niggling voice in the back of head head just wouldn't shut up.

_What if he doesn't feel the same about you? He's changed so much. You have, too. What if it's not the same?_

"Actually..." Fitz shuffled his feet against the carpet. "I was -- that's exactly what I was about to ask you. Great minds, I guess?"

"We do have those, yes." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking him toward the kitchen for a cup of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time, please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're finally getting Fitz's POV now!  
> (2nd half of the chapter). 
> 
> Trigger warning for panic attacks!
> 
> Trigger warning for typos and spelling errors!  
> (I still don't have a beta and I write half-asleep on an iPad in the middle of the night, so please bear with me)

It had taken over an hour to get Fitz to agree to nap that afternoon and then nearly another hour until he was actually asleep.

Between the excitement in the lab and the physical tests he insisted Jemma subject him to in his room ('For your research, Simmons!'), he was beyond cranky and overtired. At the 45 minute mark, she'd feigned exhaustion and took her place beside him on the floor, holding his hand in hers as she'd done the night before.

A few moments after that he'd drifted off, eyes fluttering their last against the darkness.

As soon as she was sure he was down for the count, she went in search of a cuppa. It was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself to have lately. It didn't feel right to enjoy anything whilst Fitz was suffering so much, and she'd already resigned herself to slog through the worst of it with him.

The closer Jemma got to the small kitchen near the common quarters, the louder the din of her teammates' conversation grew.

"--and that's why my mates call me 'Hunter the Punter'."

Jemma hid behind the wall, content to bask in the sounds of normal conversation. She barely even remembered what that sounded like, anymore.

"Lies. You never played soccer professionally, Hunter," Bobbi hiccuped her laughter.

"First of all, it's called _football_ , darling." Hunter huffed as over-dramatically as he did everything else. "And second of all, I never said professionally, I said _semi_ -professionally. Keep up."

"Hmm," Mac stroked his chin thoughtfully, "I always assumed they called you that because they thought you were a douchebag."

Hunter popped open a bottle of beer, sending the metal top rattling to the ground. "Oh. Ha. Ha. Gold star for you, you know one British slang word."

When the need for caffeine began to trump her desire for a spell of normalcy, she walked slowly into the room, silently praying the others wouldn't take notice.

"Simmons!" Bobbi turned to her immediately and limped a few feet forward.

Trying to sneak into a room full of super-spies was a futile endeavor.

"How's he doing?" She asked.

Jemma sighed and shook her head. "He's asleep now, but only just."

"Is he still having nightmares?" Bobbi's brow creased with concern.

"I'm not sure how much I should say. I mean, he never said I couldn't talk to you all about it, but he didn't exactly say I could." Jemma hugged herself around the waist and leaned into the nearest wall for support. "Oh, sod it. I don't think he'd mind so much and I have to share it with somebody."

Mack rose from his chair and pulled her favorite tin of tea from the top shelf. "He's okay, right?"

She took the tin from him and smiled, grateful, once again, for his shared devotion to Fitz. "Physically, he's adjusting as can be expected. But he told me - and this is going to sound completely bonkers, but given that we're discussing the side effects of him living in another celestial realm--"

"Jem, some of us need to be in bed in three hours." Hunter pulled a wry smile.

She waved her hand in front of her face and started over. "Fitz said that something on the planet was hunting him."

Mack squinted his eyes at her. "Like, one of those yeti-looking Hoth monsters from Star Wars?"

"Those are called Wampas, actually, and I have no idea. He didn't elaborate much and I didn't want to push him," she said, filling the kettle with water. "Whatever it was, it must have been harrowing, because he can't sleep more than 45 minutes without waking up screaming."

"Jesus." Hunter let out a long breath. "Poor guy."

"How would you know he wakes up?" Bobbi raised one eyebrow. "Are you two shacking up together in his room?"

"No! It's not at all the way you're making it sound..." Jemma was pretty positive she was flushing like a peach, but hoped it would come across as her being red with indignation instead.

_Great. Now, they probably think I'm trying to shag the PTSD out of him._

"We're not shacking up," she insisted, sounding a little too forceful. "Fitz is sleeping in my room because I asked him to. So I can keep a better eye on him. I'm worried he'll hurt himself in his confusion."

Suitably chastised, Bobbi shot her an apologetic look. Hunter still looked unconvinced.

"Right. I'd worry too, seeing as he's got that shiv on him at all times." Hunter casually bit into an apple like they were discussing the weather instead of a home-made intergalactic space weapon.

Jemma's eyes grew. "I wasn't sure anyone else had noticed. I think he fashioned a weapon from some of the native rock strata in order to hunt or maybe to protect himself? I haven't been able to get him to let me see it or test it yet. He brought it back with him, so he must've kept it on him at all times."

"Still does, from the looks of it." Hunter took another giant bite before passing the other half of the apple to his wife.

"Do you think Fitz thinks whatever's hunting him followed him back home through the portal?" Bobbi asked, with the same fervor she usually saved for one of her interrogations.

"Simmons," Mack leaned in, lowering his voice. "I hate to ask...but the little guy's been through a lot. Are we sure what's keeping him awake isn't just a figment of his imagination? It wouldn't be the first time he's...chosen an unorthodox coping technique."

Hunter turned to Bobbi and stole his apple back. "Is he talking about that period of time Fitz was rambling to himself like a homeless man on the subway?"

He let out a low grunt as Bobbi's elbow came into contact with his ribs.

Mack rolled his eyes at him. "Not how I would have phrased it, but yeah. That."

"Fitz had aphasia in his parietal lobe due to lack of oxygen. I hardly think you can judge a man for seeing things when he's suffered a catastrophic brain injury." Jemma shifted back and forth on her feet, her clothes suddenly feeling too small and warm for her.

Before Hunter could get another word in, Bobbi grabbed his arm. "The important thing is that we're all concerned about Fitz, and we'll pitch in with whatever he needs to get better."

"Do you think he'd sleep better if I gave him a real weapon to carry around?" Hunter offered.

"You're not giving a guy with PTSD a weapon, Hunter." Mack's expression looked like he'd just bit into a lemon. "In fact, I'd feel a whole lot better if we could take the one he has now off him."

Jemm shook her head. "No. Please don't do that. It makes him feel secure, like some sort of totem or security object."

Bobbi pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. "Are you saying Fitz is using his space shiv as a woobie?"

"If you're asking me, I'd say he's using Simmons as a woobie." Hunter finished off his apple and threw the core across the room into the trash can.

Jemma couldn't take the teasing anymore - her nerves still feeling raw from the day - and sank back into the wall in a sulk. "I don't know how to help him."

"Just keep doing what you're doing and listen to him." Bobbi reached down and rubbed a hand over her bad knee. "Give him what he says he needs, not what _you_ think he needs."

It was the best advice she'd gotten since the rescue.

Bobbi smiled warmly at Jemma and then ambled out of the room, Hunter quickly darting off to catch up.

Mack and Jemma shared a weary look.

"He's tougher than he looks, you know," he said. "I've seen him come back from stuff almost as hairy as this."

She nodded, though the flames of guilt licked at her insides like hot lava. "Yes."

"Maybe try to keep him mind off of the bad stuff," Mac turned off the kettle and filled her mug with hot water, "by giving him something good to think about instead?"

He handed her the warm tea and stopped briefly to squeeze her shoulder, before leaving her alone with her thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Fitz pulled Jemma's blanket over his head and bunched a few towels on top, for good measure.

Even through several layers of fabric, he could still hear the background chatter of his teammates, the ambient white noise coming from the hull, the turning gears on the bus groaning with each new adjustment. It was excruciating.

While he was away, he had wished ardently for the familiar sounds of home, he was thirsty for the mundane of his daily routine.

But now that he finally had it again, all he wanted to do was just disappear into the ether or bury himself so deep down he'd never see light of day again. He'd had enough of daylight.

Even during Fitz's most challenging times, post-Ward, when he'd felt useless and embarrassed, he still never wanted to be alone. But now? It was all he craved. Except for her, but that was just a constant.

A timid knock against the outside of the door sounded like a canon firing. He recognized the pattern as Jemma's, but still couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Fitz?" She rapped against the door again. "Are we still on for dinner?"

He groaned and tried to practically suffocate himself with a towel. Anything to stop the noise.

After a third knock, Simmons let herself in. "If you're not decent, it's your own fault for not answering."

The moment she saw the state he was in she dropped to the floor beside him, plopping a heavy shopping bag down with a rumpled thud. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Fitz laughed bitterly, because 'hurt' didn't begin to describe how he was feeling. He felt flayed open, raw to the elements, sickened by all of the things he'd been fantasizing about having again for months.

Except Jemma. She was just as wonderful as he'd remembered.

She pulled the towel and blankets from his head and held his chin in her palms. "Open your eyes and look at me."

He sighed, but didn't argue with her.

After making sure his pupils were reacting the way they were supposed to, she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead and pursed her lips in concentration. "No fever. No signs of illness that I can see."

"What's in the bag?" He jutted his chin at the carrier bag sitting on the floor.

"You're trying to distract me." She tried her best to look stern.

"Honest, I'm not! I-I'm just easily distracted, myself."

"Oh." Jemma smoothed his hair back from his forehead, the sensation of cool hands momentarily soothing the disquiet from his mind. "It's food. You said we'd have dinner. Remember?" A flash of worry crossed her face.

"Of course I remember, it was only this morning." He leaned into her palm and closed his eyes.

She cleared her throat, a nervous tick she'd had since the academy. "Are you still up for it?"

"I've got to eat sometime, right? Plus, I have been waiting to have dinner with you for six long months. Besides, I'm shacked up in your room, so - so there's very little chance of me standing you up again."

She looked as though she were about to protest, but it quickly morphed into a look for surprise. "I thought maybe you had forgotten about that. It was quite a while ago."

"You thought I forgot?" He cut her a side glance, "I practically had a bloody coronary trying to figure out how to ask you in a - a way you'd finally understand. So, that's - that's a yes."

She dropped her hand from his face and shook her head. "I was pretty daft. But, in my defense, I wasn't really expecting it."

"You should have been. Took me ten years to work up the nerve."

She smiled softly and then cleared her throat again. "Next time, I shall be prepared."

A picnic blanket was pulled from the bag and summarily unfolded.

She was so radiant. After six months of darkness, Fitz didn't think anything could compare to the beauty of the sun. But he was wrong.

_Was she always this beautiful?_

She caught him staring at her and they both looked away.

"Well, aren't you getting ahead of yourself, missy? Let's see how this dinner goes first before you start - start plotting more dinner dates."

"I'm quite positive it's going to go well." Jemma produced a sandwich, wrapped in butcher paper and secured with twine.

His mouth dropped open at the site.

She extended it toward him. "It's not going to eat itself, Fitz."

Fitz took the sandwich from her outstretched hands and fumbled with the wrapping. "If this is what I think it is, I just may ask you to marry me and skip the whole tragically awkward courting process."

She stopped for a beat, then busied herself laying the rest of the food out on the floor. "It doesn't have to be a date. There's no pressure for--we're just two friends eating something nice together."

He looked up from where he was inhaling the scent of the bread. "Jem, don't--I don't think I can handle the stress of asking you to go out with me a second time."

She kept her eyes on the food as her actions become slower and more determined. "I understand."

Fitz wrinkled his nose. "Do you?"

Something wasn't connecting.

Jemma smiled in that way she always did when she was covering up how she really felt about something. "You're not in any mindset to think about romance right now, of course. We should focus on getting you well. It's what I want, too. Whatever happens after that - if anything at all - will happen. No pressure."

"No - no what?" Fitz dropped his sandwich onto the plate in front of him and scooted closer to her. "Currently, my body feels like it's covered in fire ants wherever the light hits it - BUT - I'm pretty sure having to ask you out a second time would feel worse."

Her brow furrowed deeply, and the rest the dishes were laid in a more haphazard, choppy manner. "I've just said this doesn't have to be a date. Things change. No need to beat a dead horse."

"No." He groaned his frustration while he ruffled his own hair. "I've - I'm not good with words. Not anymore. But one thing I do know how to say, is - is that the way I feel about you has not changed, nor will it ever. If anything, it's...more."

She stared at him blankly for a moment then dissolved into self-conscious laughter. "We really need to figure out this communication thing, Leo. We used to be so much better."

"Nah. I mean, we used to finish each other's sentences, but I think this is probably the first time we've ever really heard what the other was saying."

She tilted her head to consider this. "You might be right."

His face bunched up into a grimace. "Of course, I'm right Jemma. I'm always right."

Jemma reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I missed my best friend so much."

"Yeah?" He bought her hand up to his forehead and pressed into it. "Enough to keep me in pesto aioli for the rest of my life?"

"Depends on how good you are for me," she said, sounding huskier than he'd ever heard her.

Fitz's chest tightened in anticipation and he looked up at her. "I'll be on my best behavior. Honest."

Their eyes locked in a stare and the air around them grew thick with possibilities.

Jemma broke away first, lips twisting in a smirk as she reached for the wine. "You say that now, but just wait until I'm using the centrifuge on a day you decide to create a liquid polymer..."

The crimson wine flowed out of the bottle as she filled the plastic glasses.

_If they smell my blood, I'm dead._

Fitz seized at the memory of talon-like hands thrashing around, slicing into his flesh. "No."

"No wine?" Jemma asked, in a sickly-sweet tone. "I thought you said you were going to be go--"

His hands covered his ears and he began rocking in place, fervently willing himself to calm down as he whispered his mantra. "You're okay...you're okay...you're okay...you're--"

"Fitz!" Jemma dropped the bottle on the ground, knocking it over in her haste to get to him.

He continued rocking, eyes and ears covered to block out the world.

In his mind, everything was blue, his legs were heavier than usual and the night sky almost never appeared.

_I'm okay...I'm okay...I'm okay..._

Just as he started to spiral into a full-blown panic attack, he felt cool hands work their way up the back of his shirt and pull him close.

"I'm here." She said, struggling to keep the tears out of her voice. "You're not alone, Leo. You're not alone now. I'm here with you. Do you feel me here?"

He buried his head in her chest, and she stroked the bare skin on his back as a wave of doubt threatened to overwhelm him. "I can't tell what's a dream anymore, Jemma. I'm so afraid I'm going to wake up and still be there."

_I thought you were with me before, and it was all in my head._

"We're together now - on Earth - and this is real." There was an edge to her voice. "Listen to me: this is _real_ , Leo."

"...you're okay...you're okay..." He continued to rasp under his breath as she kissed his hair.

"You're okay," Jemma pulled him closer. "You're okay. We're both okay, now. This is real."

He exhaled a shuttering breath and lost himself in the smell of her.

 _This is real,_ he thought, and finally let himself believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Daisy, Coulson and May were missing from this chapter, but they'll be back. (Well, Daisy will, at least). Other than that short scene last week, Daisy has kind of been MIA in the Jemma storyline (much to my dismay)? But I'm hoping AoS noticed that and will correct it, because I love the Fitzsimmons/Daisy friendship.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you're still digging it! Sound off in the comments section if you have the time and energy - I'd love to hear from you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to notapepper for graciously volunteering to do a lite beta for this chapter. If there are any mistakes (and I'm sure there are), they're all on me.

In the palm of Fitz's hand, the fragments of the monolith glittered like graphite under strong sunlight. They may have looked harmless to the layman - beautiful even - but he knew better. Like almost everything that fell into the wrong hands, it could be deadly.

A slight hum of energy radiated off of the debris, a flicker of primordial consciousness stirring to life.

There was no earthy thing like it, no reference point, and the one person qualified enough to discover its transactive properties was the one person he could never go to with this.

Fitz dreaded the look on Jemma's face if she found out what he'd been up to.

 _When she finds out_ , he corrected himself.

He winced at the memory of his outburst earlier that night, ashamed of the pathetic spectacle he must have created.

Ten years of close friendship had been long enough for each to have seen the other at their worst. Fitz had held Simmons hair back when she was sick that rough morning after they'd celebrated turning in their dissertations. She'd applied bandages and salve to both of his blistered hands after a dire chemistry miscalculation; He'd been at her side during the Chitauri virus, and she at his during his coma.

Up to this point in their friendship, he didn't think it possible that anything could shock or disgust her about him.

That was all likely to change, now.

There was a time, after his coma, that he wondered if she'd ever see him the same way she had a decade earlier - capable, bright, his brain always two steps ahead of his mouth.

After his breakdown during dinner, he now wondered if she'd even still see him as a man.

"What are you doing over there?" Bobbi wrapped a damp gym towel around her neck and took a tentative step forward. "It's 2A.M, Fitz."

"It's quiet now. Easier to think." He gestured to his head reflexively, not even bothering to put down the rock he was holding. It's not like she hadn't seen it already.

Bobbi joined him at the lab station and peered over at the chunk of debris in his hand and the spent litmus papers scattered across the countertop like constellations. "You're performing tests on it?"

He shrugged.

She took a deep breath, then leveled him with a penetrating stare. "Look, I don't know if this is part of your healing process to get over what happened--"

"I'll never get over what happened," he said, quietly, placing the rock back onto the counter. "This isn't about that."

"Then tell me what it's about."

Fitz shook his head. "You're only going to think I'm crazier than you already do."

"Hey, nobody thinks you're crazy." Bobbi's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Not any more than we did before your little Major Tom routine." She tugged the edge of his sleeve. "What are you really doing here?"

"I-I'm trying to figure out what would be necessary to rebuild the monolith."

"Why the hell would you do that?" She whisper-screamed at him. "Do you have Stockholm syndrome or something?"

_God, if she only knew._

Fitz lifted one of the jars filled containing small pieces of the monolith and shook it. The fragments inside turned to liquid for a brief moment before returning to their solid form.

"Fitz, this is insanity," she said, made breathless by the sight. "If Simmons finds out--"

"Simmons can't find out," he snapped, much harsher than he'd meant to. "I don't want her to worry."

Bobbi placed a hand on her hip and stared him down. "You're damn right she'd worry. And for good reason."

Fitz held the jar of matter to his chest. "Bobbi, what did you say to me after you woke up from your first surgery?"

"That I wanted to kill Ward for taking away the one thing I'm good at."

"And what did I say?"

Recognition dawned in her expression. "That a bone grows back stronger after it's been broken. And that even if I can't put myself back together the exact same way I was before, I could still feel whole again."

Fitz shook the jar again, and the silvery-black liquid climbed the sides of the glass. "I need to piece the monolith back together to feel whole again, Bobbi."

Visibly distraught, she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. "But why?"

"Because, I have to go back." Fitz shelved the jar next to the others. "I have unfinished business."

"Okay," she laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not going to even pretend to know what you're thinking right now, but it can't mean anything but trouble."

Fitz searched for signs of pity in her expression and was relieved not to find any there. "T-trust me. I've got this."

She sighed, and he could sense her acquiesce. "I'm not going to lie to Simmons."

"I'm not asking you to lie, I'm asking you not to tell. Not until I can figure out my next step."

Her gaze softened. "I'll agree not to say anything unless she asks, but in return, you need to promise me you're not going to go off and do anything stupid without telling me first."

Fitz placed his hand over his heart and gave her a half-hearted smile. "I swear on The Doctor's bow tie."

* * *

 

"I come bearing gifts."

Skye - or Daisy as he was told she now went by - barely even bothered to knock before letting herself into Simmons's room.

A puzzled expression crossed her face as she noticed the empty bed, before her eyes dropped to where Fitz was sitting on the floor.

"Huh," she said, placing a large vase filled with daisies on the bedside table. "Figured you'd be dying to get into a real bed after your unplanned camping excursion."

Too tired to explain, Fitz simply moved over to clear a space for her, which she sank into without fuss.

"Those bother you?," she said, pointing at the flowers she'd brought. "I was told you, like, have the nose of a bloodhound, now."

"Are you trying to woo me with flowers, Skye?" Daisy. He meant to say Daisy.

If the slip-up bothered her, it didn't show on her face.

"Not me. They're from Jemma. She thought they would 'brighten up the room' and also double as a way of helping you remember my name." She rolled her eyes heavily. "But, you can call me anything you want as long as you don't go playing Houdini on us again."

Skye was different, not only her name, but her presence. Something within her had obviously shifted during his absence. She was as brilliant as a supernova, power congealed within her core, ready to spring forward at her command in a white hot burst of energy.

"You don't look like a Daisy."

"I know." She laughed, absently playing with the left cuff of his khakis. "But, you know, I spent my whole life thinking there was nobody out there who cared about me and now I know that's not true. Somebody did love me - _does_ love me - even if he can't be in my life right now. Daisy Johnson had parents who loved her. Skye didn't."

He understood the thought process. Only his parents called him Leo, and once his dad bolted, he couldn't stand the sound of his own name. Not until recently. But then again, he'd probably answer to anything as long as Simmons was the one who was speaking.

"Well, at least you'll have the element of surprise. Don't think anybody will expect a woman named Daisy to be kicking their ass."

"I'll have to use that line next time Coulson forgets." Daisy's easy smile began to fade. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come visit you. Things have been--" she twirled her hand in the air, signifying chaos.

"It's alright. I've mainly been sleeping. Or trying to, at least."

"Jemma said you've been having trouble."

His head dropped back with a huff, because, what an understatement.

"You don't want to talk about it yet, right?"

"That's right."

She crawled closer to him and wrapped him up in a one armed hug. "I hope this is okay. I know you're having some problems with sensory overload, so you can tell me to get the hell off you if it's too much."

"No." Fitz raised his arms and folded them around her, like she was the only thing keeping him from floating away. "It's nice."

"You don't have to put up a front with me, you know," she whispered into his shoulder. "I know what it's like to feel alien. Half the people look at you like you're a freak and the rest of them just feel sorry for you, like you have a disease."

His arms tightened around her waist.

"You were the only person who made me feel normal back then, Fitz. Let me repay the favor."

He blinked back the tears he didn't known had been forming. "What you can do, what you are, is amazing. What I am is just..." He didn't have the words to finish his thought - or maybe - he had too many of them.

"A fucking rock star?" Daisy supplied. "You survived on a random planet in a foreign solar system with nothing but your wits and your hands. All the quaking in the world wouldn't have gotten me through something like that. Quaking don't put food on the table. Don't sell yourself short."

Fitz smiled, and for the first time in a while, it felt genuine. "A rock star, huh?"

She raised her hands. "Or whatever dorky equivalent you science-types use as a reference? An Einstein?"

"Thanks Sk--Daisy."

"Anytime." She rose from the floor and brushed off the legs of her pants. "I'm just glad you're home and safe. We all are. Especially, one person in particular."

"I wonder who that could be?" He blushed, suddenly preoccupied by the flecks of lint clinging to his shirt.

"Right." Daisy snorted a laugh as she opened the door. "Well, I've got to go find a supernatural serial killer who can change his appearance at whim. So, you know, I'll probably see you in about ten years. Wish me luck."

She shot him a parting smile and then closed the door behind herself.

_I'm a 'rock' star? How fucking apt._

From his jeans pocket, he pulled a monolith rock he'd filched from his work station and watched it turn to liquid in his hand.

 

* * *

 

By the time Jemma finally made it into the lab, she was greeted with the site of Bobbi, slumped over what looked to be some construction schematics.

It had been a while since she'd given her full focus to the current roster of sci-ops projects, but at first glance, the prototype looked like nothing she could remember discussing with anyone.

She carefully extracted the papers from underneath Bobbi's slumbering form and held them up to the light.

The handwriting. She'd know it anywhere.

_Dammit, Fitz!_

A cold, dead weight settled in her chest.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh just saw the Jemma episode and I'm just...blechhh. Feeling smh for Simmons dragging Fitz into helping her get her boyfriend back, even though she knows how Fitz feels about her. She knows he'd never say no to her, even if it kills him inside. So cruel. Why can't she get another scientist friend to help her?
> 
> Prayer circle for Fitz's broken heart.
> 
> I have no idea how to reverse engineer this mess for the purpose of this fic, so I'm going to have to think on this for a little bit and rewrite the final chapter. Or I could just post the chapter as originally intended and we can all pretend this Jemma episode never happened? 
> 
> Where are those remember-me-not pills (from Arrested Development) when you need them?
> 
> If you have a preference, please let me know what you think in the comments section. Or just come say hi and commiserate with me.


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